


Declaration

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-11
Updated: 2005-03-11
Packaged: 2019-05-15 21:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: CJ gets a letter.





	Declaration

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Declaration**

**by: Francesca and Karen**

**Pairing(s):** CJ/Sam  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters (I wish) but am just borrowing them for a while I will put them back - honest, no copyright infringement is intended. I’m just taking Sam Seaborn’s advice #grins# "Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal from them outright." I'm not borrowing or stealing, just sneaking some use while no one's looking.  
**Summary:** C.J gets a letter. Sequel to "Wrap My Words Around You".  
**Author's Note:** Credit to Karen who brought the C.J. 

I was almost out the door. Almost. It's at times like this I wish I were shorter, I have this theory... If I were shorter then I'd be able to sneak past fortress Carol, I'd leave at 6pm and I'd have a life. Hey, I didn't say it was a good theory, but it's all I've got. So anyway, I'm not shorter, don't seem to be getting any shorter or having any more of a life... And Carol's just got me again. 

"Are you kidding me?" 

"CJ, do you remember the last time I did that? It ended badly, I took a vow of no kidding in the West Wing. It's part of my moral code, I think it makes me..." 

"Carol?" 

"You want me to shut up?" 

"I want you to be kidding me. I want to go home, have a bath, and watch something terrible on television." 

"Well, the President wants you to accompany him to the dinner, so not so much with what you want to do." 

"Right." 

Again, that would be the story of my life - not so much with what I want to do. 

"Is the First Lady still sick?" 

"Yeah, and Charlie says she's getting mean, so I'd avoid all contact if I were you." 

"Wonderful. Okay, I'll need something to wear, could you..." 

"I'm on it, dress and shoes will be here in about thirty minutes." 

I don't know what I'd do without this woman, and I don't tell her that enough. 

"I owe you one". 

"Well, you owe me about twenty but who's counting." 

I am. 

"Carol, you're a lifesaver. Just one question though, how did you get someone to my apartment without my keys? Did you go through my bag again, cause I have friends on the secret service?" 

"I do too but, I wouldn't snoop again. I don't have to; I copied them the last time I went through your bag so there would be no need to invade your privacy again." 

"Cool. So is there anything else?" 

"No, just some mail for you to go through, I think there's one from Sam." 

"Should I ask you what he wrote?" 

"I didn't get time to read it, thought you could tell me about it later. Anyway, I'm going for coffee if you're interested?" 

"Make it strong, it's gonna be a long night." 

Okay so I'm going to hide out in here and read my letter from Sam. I miss him, and his letters or emails are a poor substitute, but I'm greedy for any connection with him that I get. I don't admit that often, it's dangerous to dwell on the power he's always had over me. Not that I ever told him, he's one of those 'almost' parts of my life. I almost told him about that power once upon a time, but I let it go. I'd rather have him as my friend than my 'almost' something else. So we write each other, although he's been more quiet than usual recently, but then we're both all about the work. But he writes a good letter, so I'll indulge myself with this before the horror of the dinner later. 

"Dear C.J, 

Hi how are you? If you’re reading this then bear with me because it’s gone one in the morning and all I’ve had to eat all day is rubber chicken. I can report with confidence that campaign food hasn’t got any better - remember when we used to come back and call out for Pizza? 

Did you know it took Thomas Jefferson eighteen days to write the Declaration of Independence? He began his work on June 11 and toiled in seclusion writing a number of drafts. After presenting his final draft, the committee further revised the document and submitted it to the Continental Congress on June 28. He was 33 and writing the most important speech of his life, even if it did boil down to "Your Highness, we beseech you on this day in Philadelphia to bite me, if you please."" 

See that's one of the reasons I miss him so much. He's funny, and not everyone gets that. He's serious and he has heart, and he can bring the funny. And I miss him, but I've said that already. I think I must need to eat something; I'm not usually this ready to admit my weakness for all things Samshine. Well, not at work anyway, when I go home to my empty apartment my weakness becomes part of me again. I just wear it better here, hiding behind an expensive suit and my smart mouth. 

"Well it contained more than that. But that was one of the best parts. Well I’ve been writing this letter for more nights than you know and I can remember and I’ve written any number of drafts, most of which I’ve tossed. I’m 33 and writing the most important speech of my life, this is my declaration. 

You’re an amazing woman, and in the five years I’ve known you I keep being reminded I’ve never met anyone like you before and I don’t think I will again. Its five years if you include campaign time, which I’m beginning to think is a measurement of time on the opposite end of the scale from the New York minute because it seems to last forever. You’re one of the few people who can make me feel totally comfortable one moment, like I’m 17 in another and like a complete nervous hooleilia. Right now I feel like a nervous hooleilia, I thought I should tell you this because you can’t see me. And I’m nervous because I know I’ll only get one chance to tell you this, and if I get it wrong I risk losing everything." 

Okay, what? What's he talking about? He said something about eating rubber chicken; I think it might have affected his judgement. He thinks I'm amazing? 

"The thing is that this is a risk I have to take because I look back at the last five years and see silences, questions that were never asked or answered, missed chances and times when maybe we were telling each other something but the other wasn’t listening." 

I'm not reading anymore of this, because this is a joke. Sam Seaborn, the Sam I know, he wouldn't write this. Because, well because he just wouldn't. This is somebody messing with me, right? But it looks like Sams' handwriting, it really does. And who else in the world uses a world like hooleilia? Sam would not write that last sentence to me, not in the real world, the one I live in. What was he telling me when I wasn't listening, and what was I doing? I suppose the noise of the press corps will drown out most other voices. Even Sams. 

"The day after Rosslyn is the best and worst example, and I know we were busy, we were frightened and we were worrying like hell about Josh, about the President, the Country, everything except ourselves. You never asked me why I knocked you down when the shooting started, I never told you why you came around alone on the ground (I’d gone to get you a medic, I wish I’d stayed with you so you didn’t wake up alone) and you never asked me why I was carrying your necklace in my shirt pocket. I muttered something about coconut oil and towels and you asked me if I was scared. I was scared; I was scared that the world might not have you in it. I was scared you’d figured out why my first thought when the shooting began was to make sure you were safe, why I sheltered you and why I was carrying your necklace. I admit I was in two minds either to keep it or give it back to you. I don’t want to be in a world that doesn’t have you in it C.J, during those 9 ½ seconds when I didn’t know if the next shot was going to hit us, I didn’t know if you were alive or dead I caught a glimpse of that world and it’s cold, lonely and grey. You bring colour to the world just by being part of it. But you didn’t ask, and I never found the courage to tell you." 

If this is a joke, I swear I'll hunt that person down. I can feel my heart beating in my chest; it's pounding, so I couldn't bear it if this were someone's idea of entertainment. There is more to read, but I'm afraid to go on, maybe I should leave it where I am. I could imagine that he will use more beautiful words and make me feel for the first time in the longest time. He's almost making me believe that what he has written is what I want to read, and maybe I'd be wiser to settle for the almost. But what if there's more? 

"Maybe I should have said something when we went to the Kennedy Centre together, but you got ambushed by Tad Whitney, I came face to face with Mallory, and you announced you were great in bed, in the Oval Office. You have no idea how that made me feel, though maybe you would have had if I’d ever told you. 

I know you always wondered why Mal and I didn’t get together; I know you wondered about me and Ainsley Hayes. After Rosslyn I knew I was in love with someone and no-one else would be enough. I also thought I knew I had no chance with the Lady. So I kept my silence, and began to write speeches like this one in hope that one day I would find the words to offer her. 

And she gave me hope my Lady, she danced with me, she laughed with me, she protected and defended me. She gave me nicknames and teased me but she never treated me like a child the way Toby sometimes did. She treated me like a friend and I valued that but I wanted more, I wanted what was next." 

Oh my, what's next Sam? 

"And then she was threatened, and I was powerless and I hated that. Leo commented on it at the time, he thought it was over the business with Kevin and the attack ad. He said I’d left a Sam Seaborn shaped hole in the wall, what he didn’t know it was because I couldn’t help her; I couldn’t protect her, not this time. I had to sit back and watch another man do what I wished I could. And I watched her grow closer to him, and somewhere in the recesses of my mind I was wishing it was me. And then he died and I held her while she cried like her heart was broken. I didn’t speak then, I couldn’t speak. I’ve been told I have the gift of words, but I couldn’t find the words to offer her and the truth remained unspoken. 

There were times I thought she knew how I felt, and maybe she might feel the same…but we never said the words. She never asked and I didn’t tell. But we danced, and we drank, we sat on Josh’s stoop and watched the stars, and I wrote speeches that no one saw, no one ever read and no one ever heard. 

She told me once I knew how to wear a tuxedo, and I felt 7ft tall, I didn’t tell her she knows how to wear an evening dress, that for me no matter who ever is in the room she’s the epitome of style and grace. I didn’t tell her she looks as good in jeans and a ‘rock the vote’ T-shirt as she does in a business suit. There’s a lot I didn’t tell her, and I regret it." 

Is he talking about me? I mean, I know he must be, but is he? Is this real? 

"I went to see Will Bailey in California, and that’s how I ended up here, he reminded me of me, a younger more idealistic me. A me before I stopped saying the things I felt because I didn’t dare take the risk, a me who walked out of Gage Whitney Pace on the strength of my best friend’s bad poker face, a me who helped elect an impossible candidate because he was the real thing. And I said I’d run if he won the election, because he was running an impossible campaign and we’ve been there, hell we wrote the book. Because Horton Wilde’s wife had just lost her husband to a cause they both believed in and because decisions are made by those who turn up. The longer I’m out here though I’m beginning to realise something, I didn’t do this for Will Bailey, I didn’t do it for Mrs Wilde, I did this for me. And I may fall on my face and I may, by an impossible miracle win but I’m doing something, I’m making a difference and I haven’t felt like this for a long time. 

And I’ve been writing this speech to my Lady for five years, and I’ve never said it, because there were conflicts of interest, because I was scared, because there was always something that got in the way, some emergency, some situation. I was standing at the back of the room with my heart in my hands and I never dared step forward… 

I’m Sam Seaborn, and this is my declaration and it boils down to this. I’m in love with you, I have been since we met in New Hampshire and what ever happens, what ever comes next part of me always will be. I thought you should know, yours Sam" 

Okay. 

Okay. 

Well, that was... That was Sam, writing to me. He loves me? 

Sam? 

I need to calm down, need to remember to breathe. Deep breaths, deep breaths... 

"CJ, are you okay?" 

Why does everyone think it's okay just to wander in to my office? I mean I could be doing something important, like reading a love letter from a man I care about. Sometimes I really do wish for a quiet life. 

"I'm fine Carol, just practising my yoga breathing technique." 

"That's yoga?" 

"It's a new kind, anyway weren't you promising me coffee earlier?" 

"On it's way, I was just dropping off your dress." 

My dress. I have a dinner tonight, a White House dinner. I'm going to be talking to dignitaries while thinking about Sam Seaborn. 

Sam Seaborn, I like how his name sounds on my tongue. Does that mean something? I don't know what to do; I mean what's the correct response in this situation. Should I call him, tell him thanks? 

"CJ?" 

"Yeah" 

"You looked like you were somewhere else there. It almost looked like you wanted to be there." 

And you know what, I do. So I should probably do something about that. 

"What time does the dinner finish tonight?" 

"According to the schedule about 9pm, do you need me to hang around?" 

"No, go home, but I need you to do something first." 

Just say it CJ, make it real. 

"Can you get me a flight to Newport Beach for sometime after 10pm?" 

And now Carol's looking at me like I'm crazy, or maybe she's just trying to read me again. Usually she's very good at it; I'm going to have to be careful here. I can't give away what this might mean. 

"I need to get to Newport Beach tonight, after the dinners over, something’s come up" 

And I know she wants to ask more, but I also know we will not. Carol keeps my secrets. 

"Oh, and Carol" 

"Yes?" 

"Keep it quiet". 

And I know she will. So I have a dinner to get ready for, and then... 

Sam. 


End file.
